


Whetted Appetite

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What my imagination happily provided for the evening after the taping with <i>that</i> Colin/Greg SFAH kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whetted Appetite

**Author's Note:**

> Not real. No offense intended to those portrayed herein.

“Shit, Col,” Greg gasps, hips struggling under Colin’s iron grip. Greg’s fingers scrabble and dig into the sheets as his head falls back involuntarily. A great blowjob will always render him incapable of coherent speech, and if there’s one thing that Colin is fantastic at, apart from improv, it’s giving head.

Colin hums, lazily swirling his tongue across the head of Greg’s cock before taking him deep again. While one warm hand grips the base, the other creeps down to cup his balls and roll them gently. Normally Greg would slide his fingers into his partner’s hair, cradling the skull and exerting a little pressure to help things along, but he’s mindful of the ‘no touch’ rule tonight. So instead he grips the sheets beneath him harder and harder, until his knuckles are white, while Colin winds that coil inside him ever more tightly. 

Soon he’s almost at the brink, the push and slide too much, but just as he’s starting to fly, Colin pulls back on the throttle. Greg knows that Colin can keep him on the edge for as long as he wants to. It’s exhilarating and frustrating in equal measure, his body crying out for release but also for more.

Greg opens his eyes, looking for something to focus on, but the hotel room is dimly lit and all he can see from this angle is an expanse of plain ceiling. He huffs, but his intended protest comes out as more of a moan and Colin only chuckles. The next moment, Colin moves downwards, his hand taking full control of Greg’s cock while the heat of his mouth descends on his balls. 

Greg’s breath hitches as Colin envelopes one whole and gently suckles, his tongue laving the underside, causing a ripple of goose bumps to break out across Greg’s body despite the fact that most of his clothes are still on. He can feel the slow trickle of saliva running down to his ass, cooling quickly. Colin’s fingers follow, sliding into the cleft of his cheeks to press on the circle of sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, yeah,” Greg pants, managing to tilt his pelvis up ever so slightly in clear invitation. Colin’s fingers disappear but return quickly with added lubrication, which he wastes no time in using. Greg pushes down against the welcome intrusion with a long, satisfied groan. He’s not one for going slow, especially when those fingers curl up to press against his prostate. Suddenly he’s seeing stars spread across the previously plain ceiling, only shining brighter when Colin’s mouth returns to his cock. Sweet Jesus, he doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this.

The end is drawing nearer now, though. He can feel it, and Colin’s increased pace is only stoking that blazing fire. As his fingers clench in the sheets enough to hurt, Greg hears a muttered, “Fuck,” from across the room. Seconds later, Colin groans around his mouthful of cock, and Greg can only echo it as he imagines what Ryan is doing out of his field of view. He indulges in a moment of smugness—he knew that Ryan wouldn’t be able to simply watch without staking his claim, and it sounds like he’s staking it good—and with that, the coil snaps and he’s emptying everything down Colin’s throat with a strangled torrent of exclamations and curse words.

When Colin’s grip eventually goes slack, his eyes closing in pleasure, Greg’s able to raise himself up a little. He’s met with the delectable sight of Ryan buried to the hilt in Colin’s ass. Greg watches for a while, transfixed by the slick sounds and hungry expressions on both of their faces—Ryan’s with an edge of that possessive side that Greg saw a hint of earlier—his spent cock even managing to show some renewed interest. Then he carefully slides his limbs out and pushes off from the bed, his shirt tail flapping around his waist as he pads to the chair that Ryan just vacated. It’s still warm. Sliding a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket, Greg lights up and settles back to enjoy the second act.


End file.
